Pirates of the Hard Nox [Open]

She wasn't scared, or if she was, she faked it very well. Naveen flipped a couple more pages while walking around the feathered woman. Her feet didn't unfreeze, the vampire would want her to feel pain for a while longer, not enough to cause permanent damage, just to entertain.

"Did your mother ever tell you about the harpies?" Naveen said, quite familiar with the aos gaotha's traditions. He'd met them at their prime and had seen them fall from the sky when the fae ships arrived, but he hadn't met one in over thirty years. Many of them survived, while the harpies weren't as lucky. "You're lucky these are just decorative." He stepped closer, closing the book and lifting his left hand, to brush the tips of his fingers over the feathers popping off her ears.

***

He was being a coward, and he knew it. It was likely the baron had already told Emer, while Caleb hid in a room after a pathetic speech that meant absolutely nothing. He squeezed Alys' hand, resting his head on the nook of her neck in search of comfort, as well as to hide the tears falling down.

"I killed her Alys, I-" Caleb whispered, but he couldn't finish what he was going to say, the sobbing could no longer be stopped. He failed to be quiet despite his desperate attempts to stop his hiccups, which only made it all worse and more pitiful. She'd see him for the coward he was, she'd regret ever trusting him in the first place.

"You're just like the rest of them."

He wasn’t sure if it was the silence, that familiar surrounding nothingness that the bare quarters provided, or if it was the culmination of the day’s efforts, but at some point Leo had dozed off, the crystal shield that had been hidden so long ago bare on his lap with his blade lying next to him, soft murmurs and growls interrupting his fleeting dreams in whatever time passed. There was no measure of that here, and so when he started awake it was difficult to tell whether he had completely fell asleep or simply nodded out for a moment, though the rest had replenished his flagging energy a bit regardless of its length.

As much as he enjoyed the calm of the empty room a realization had come to him in those unconscious moments, the speech Caleb had given gaining scope with Emer’s wails before Leo had set off to explore the crystal city. The Captain’s absence was not by choice, she had to have either been killed or taken by King. The former sounded unlikely, the steel of the woman’s being far stronger than Leo thought the necromancer would be able to surmount. The latter made sense given King’s abrupt exit, but Leo didn’t see why they weren’t chasing after the ship he had been imprisoned on to get her back.

In her absence someone had to take her place, and though Emryk had shouted that returning to the mansion was on the order of the Captain, leo wasn’t sure who could have issued the order and worn the title so casually and so quick after the true Captain was gone. The only people nearby when Leo had entered seemed unsuited or ill equipped for the job. He mulled the thought over as he threaded the rope that had been around his waist through the handles of the shield, typing it to his back and sliding his blade between. The shield had value enough to be hidden, and so it had value enough to be kept. He only hoped whatever spirit had nestled it under their blanket would appreciate his use of the crystal.

He chose his next path at random, following one of the many halls that led away from the sleeping quarters and into the rooms of the mansion. The path angled upwards slightly, switching back upon itself a few times to reach the second floor before ending. From this side of the nearly translucent walls the door mechanisms were more easily spotted, and Leo snatched one of them open when he realized he could continue no farther. The room inside was expansive, a four post bed with rotted canopy above adorned with dirty sheets and flanked by thick wooden drawers that seemed in remarkable condition. A table set on the far wall, daintily carved with a matching straight backed chair and an obscured standing mirror affixed to its back.

Though it was too opulent for his tastes the room seemed unoccupied, and offered a chance for more private plundering. The shield was likely the only thing he would find in the abandoned house, but he searched through drawers and under the bed regardless. This was what pirates did, what they were about. Anything of value was theirs for the taking, and though he didn’t think he would ever understand or reach the level of greed that seemed so integral in the work he could at least mimic the mindset, at least while the flame in his heart remained steady and his rage was under control. Even if he were to wear the hat Leo knew that dressing up a lion only masked its wild appearance and did nothing to lock away its savage heart.

The hairs on their arm stood on end as their hand drew near the staff, tucked neatly in its alcove. They weren't sure if it was imagined, or if there was something more to this place than they originally thought, but Juniper felt a tension in the air, a building energy waiting to break free. It wasn't what they felt in the manor, between the crew, and it wasn't what they felt when their anger started to get the best of them. It felt focused. It felt stronger. Soon it felt that their hand was no longer in their own control, being pulled towards the staff.

It was forked, two prongs pointing outwards, which drew back and spiraled around each other until they joined back into a single piece of wood. It looked beautiful, a nice, dark stain over the entire thing. It was clear whoever had made it cared for its creation deeply. Their arm began to tingle as they approached, the air nearly buzzing with energy. As their hand wrapped carefully around it, they felt a burst of energy, similar yet distinct to their own magic. It was electric, invigorating. Suddenly, they were wide awake, the pain in their shoulder reduced to a dull throb for the moment, their breath speeding up.

Over the rush in their ears, Juniper vaguely heard Emryk speak, something about instructions. They blinked twice, before turning to face the baron, a much lighter expression on their face than he had likely seen all day. "I-I'm sorry, didn't quite catch that," they said, though it was clear that anything repeated likely wouldn't be heard either. Then, he turned to asking about Beck. That much, they managed to at least partly understand. "Oh, it was me. Or herself, hard to say. I told her to not be like me, and keep herself in check instead of trying to kill someone over a dance, and I guess I touched a nerve. Frankly she's lucky I'm even talking to her, considering she did shoot me." They spoke quickly, relaxed, and their eyes never left the staff in their hands.

He hadn’t expected to find much, and his expectation was only met with paper that fell to dust at his touch, cloth that unraveled in his hand. The next drawer he pulled was much the same, so that by the time he reached the small drawer in the dainty table’s center he expected to find nothing. The unexpected found him, however, as the door, the proper door that would have been reserved for one of the manor’s appreciated occupants, opened and Beck stepped through.

Leo straightened from his position, the drawer left hanging as he turned to her and scratched the back of his head. ”A dangerous thing to do when you have that in your hands,” he said, offering a smile with his gesture to her bow. Juniper had felt the danger of the weapon, and he was glad Alys was not around lest he become a casualty as well. ”Thank you for keeping your arrows in their quiver.” He liked that word, quiver, though he had never had the opportunity to use it before now. It evoked an image of a plump fairy, trembling in fear in front of the beast it had taunted. The archer’s eyes were red rimmed, her mouth set firmly with hard emotion.

”What’s wrong, Beck?” his concern was genuine, despite not knowing the girl very well. There were too many red eyes already, too many hard emotions coloring the faces he would rather see smiling and drinking. It was more disturbing on the youthful face, somehow, than on the well worn lines of the Baron’s scales, or among the scars of the grizzled quartermaster. Hers was a face that still had much joy left to meet before such heavy things drug her down to the level of the bastard crew of the Hard Nox. Leo jerked the heavy duvet from the bed and sat on the cleaner sheet beneath, head tilted curiously toward her.

”I am a very good listener.”

The metaphor was somewhat enlightening, and certainly very descriptive. Vena had a moment of picturing what this could do to both the ship and their fingers, which were currently occupied with the tying off of colored thread. That was a much better thing to do with fingers, they determined, being rather fond of theirs where they were and in the same number of pieces. "Ah."

She talked a little more about the centipede, and Vena slipped a razor out of their pocket again, eyeing the edge of the thread and the smooth unmarred skin along the side - it would be so easy to cut, to slice, to watch the red blood flow and then nothing bad would happen. They swallowed, then closed their eyes, and made a quick cut of only the thread, tucking the razor away before things became awkward. Perhaps Hester hadn't noticed. She did still seem rather loopy.

And if the centipede had eaten the fear and anger, she probably couldn't be pissed at them for thinking about it even if she had noticed.

"I don't like to point out the obvious - actually, I rather do, but that's not how the phrase goes - but, er... have you just tried... Hallooooooooo! Centipeeeeede! Come here bug, who's a good bone, then?!" Would this actually work? It was not likely.

But then again, stranger things had certainly happened today.

"I DIDN'T MEAN TO DO IT!" Beck cried, stomping her foot. It was only after the tears started rolling and her eyes met Leo's that she realized he wasn't being sarcastic. "I'm sorry, I-" She sniffed, wiping her cheeks with her hands. It didn't help drying her face, as she wouldn't stop crying. "I'm hungry and it's been a hard day and…" She kept on babbling about Alys, Ciaran and Juniper, and all the awful ways they'd hurt her, though it would be near impossible to decipher most of it.

***
“F-fuck…” Caleb mouthed, frustrated at his inability to pull himself together. He was angry, angry at Sinead for not picking up that damn knife, angry at himself for hurting Emer, angry at Alys… No. He wasn’t angry at Alys.

With her fingers gently caressing his back, his breath slowly began to regulate. His muscles relaxed beneath her touch and he stayed there, too embarrassed to expose his face.

“Thank you.” Caleb muttered against her neck, closing his eye as he remembered how tired he was.